


All Ridges and Courtship

by OutRes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Biology, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Awkwardness, Come Marking, First Time, Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, M/M, Sith Pureblood, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutRes/pseuds/OutRes
Summary: Darth Arkous pines relentlessly for Colonel Darok, his counterpart in the Revanite cult. After a particularly-grueling training session, the Sith offers use of his shower to the weary soldier, who accepts. Needless to say, Darok doesn't make it that far.





	All Ridges and Courtship

The Temple of the Ancients.

An ostentatiously-named building, to be sure, but one that had doubtlessly been a party to enough sheer  _ history _ to earn the accolade.

Tens of thousands of years ago, it had been the literal core of an empire that spanned the stars and subjugated trillions.

Hundreds of years ago, it had, again, served as a central, protective cog in a machine of conquest, one that had almost ensured Sith dominance across the known galaxy.

And now, Darth Arkous, member of the Dark Council, and secret adherent to the Order of Revan, was set to once again use the legendary stone monument as a launching point for an invasion, but not one in the name of the Rakata or the Sith, no.

This Sith's benefactor was  _ magnitudes _ more powerful.

The cybernetically-enhanced supersoldiers Arkous now observed on his monitors were evidence enough of that. They were a simply-ingenious fusion of Rakata and Selkath biotechnologies, and oh, the dark-robed Sith pureblood couldn't help but blow out a breath in delight at the thought.

Never before had he seen cybernetic beings so adaptable, so obedient. They ran through their drills like battle droids, but on the flip of a chit, were able to react instantaneously to any randomized scenario with the effectiveness of, well, Sith commandos.

Arkous was nearly ashamed to admit it, but they were even  _ better _ than Sith commandos. After all, no Sith commando he had seen could pirouette into a strike that could cleave a man in half. No Sith commando could ever coordinate as effectively as to isolate and pin-down a  _ rancor _ using only techstaffs. No Sith commando could, at-will, physically grow to  _ twice their height  _ in order to meet a fierce-enough threat.

Yes, Arkous liked the growers.

But only mostly as much as their master.

Not the similarly-enhanced Commander Rand, no, though Arkous definitely appreciated his efforts. No, it was the tall, chiseled human also out there on the Temple approach, supervising the training of all those superlative soldiers, that had the Sith Lord's eye.

The Republic colonel.

Arkous scoffed.

The  _ Republic _ colonel.

And yet, his partner in crime. A man who had accompanied him through the many-numbered trials of the Revanites, who had helped coordinate their resourcefully-intertwined raids on the Sith and Jedi academies, and who had ingeniously outmaneuvered the disruptive efforts of Theron Shan, Lana Beniko, and the rest of their pitiful little band of fools. 

Colonel Darok. A being truly unlike any Republic officers Arkous had known. Of course, he possessed the typical loyalty to his inferiors that infected the rest of Republic Command, but at the same time, there existed a... resolute nature in the man. Time and again, Darok had expressed this quality in the presence of the Darth, most recently in their departure from Manaan. The Colonel hadn't hesitated a millisecond in dooming their genetic research station to a watery grave, though the intended targets of that particular move had unfortunately escaped.

But dozens of civilian researchers hadn't. That particular cost would have made lesser men balk,  _ had _ made lesser men balk, in Arkous's experience. But Darok was gifted with a sense of pragmatism, and now, a devotion to a cause larger than the corrupt democracy he'd originally sworn his life to. That emerging faith had shone like a beacon to Arkous then, in the escape submersible, and it had excited him to his core.

And other parts of him as well.

Before, Arkous struggled to explain to himself this attraction to Darok, initially believing it was a physical quality; after all, the Darth had enjoyed several dalliances with Sith of an alike sex and body type to the Colonel. But those were all short-lived affairs with ended with either a quiet exit or a lightsaber. Such was, it seemed, the nature of relationships in the Empire.

But he was operating outside Imperial authority now. As was Darok the Republic. Two powerful men, striking against long-held, decaying institutions in the name of a new paradigm that promised true freedom for all worthy sentients. 

That was it, Arkous supposed. A capable warrior, like him, embarking on a journey far beyond the petty tasks and responsibilities of a Sith Lord or Special Forces commander. A journey of the heart.

Other Sith would consider such a notion to be needlessly-romantic, or worse, a point of weakness to exploit. But Arkous, now emancipated from the backstabbing politics of the Empire, was free to let the idea consume his thoughts and bolster his arousal. And Force, was he aroused.

As on a number of previous occasions, the Darth was of a mind to switch off the monitors, march right down to the training grounds, and declare his everlasting passion to Colonel Darok. A proverbial blast door came down on the idea almost immediately, for obvious reasons. No, Arkous had to make his move more subtly; it had been a while now that a plan had been slowly forming alongside the more-mundane supply logistics and tactical analysis, one dealing with a different battlefield altogether.

A battlefield of... a resounding  _ thud  _ on the stone door of Arkous's quarters.

Practically ejected was the Darth from his impassioned revelry, head jolting up in legitimate surprise. The monitors showed... a deserted training ground? Had he truly missed the rest of the drills? 

A second thump to the door. Often did Arkous wish they installed chimes on the damn things. He didn't need either mode of announcement to intuit who was outside, though.

Suddenly thankful for the obscuring nature of his lower robe, the Sith Lord rose and moved to the door, its audibly-gravelly form sliding away to reveal the sweat-soaked form of the good Colonel. Right on schedule, on a better day.

"Colonel." 

"Arkous."

No, this was too formal, too rigid a start if Arkous wanted this to go well. And, chancing a look down at Darok's form, still garbed in skintight white training fatigues, he very much did.

"I see the training proceeds..." 

He searched for the proper word, something with a touch of levity. 

"...swimmingly?"

From Darok, a barely-repressed chuckle. From Arkous, a hardly-repressed smirk.

"Indeed. Rand and his boys are getting better by the day. Wearing me down, I have to admit."

The Darth scoffed. "If your definition of getting 'worn down' is developing, by all appearances, a slight sweat, well..." He paused for effect. "I'd hate to see what 'utterly exhausted' looks like."

A peculiar look developed on the Colonel's features. 

"Would you?"

Now, it was Arkous's turn for such a look. Clearly, Darok had his own plan in motion, and so had nudged the Sith Lord's off a proverbial cliff.

"I-I, well..."

He was in freefall. 

Until he wasn't.

"Depends on the occasion, I suppose." A courtly flourish, borne from many a Kaas dinner party.

But Darok's posture had stiffened, and the Sith Lord feared he'd, well, overcompensated.

"I'm, uh, off to the showers. Or what passes for them in this," he sardonically gestured with a bare, muscled arm, " _ cavern _ ."

Oh, back on the usual script now. It  _ was  _ somewhat of an overt answer, he supposed.

But no, he could salvage this, just…

_ Wait _ .

Arkous hadn't intended the Force suggestion, but it nevertheless had stopped the soldier cold as he'd turned to leave.

A voice, low, almost wounded-sounding. "What?"

Well, the best option was to pretend as if he hadn't just momentarily lost control of his powers. Clearly.

"I, hmm, recognize your desire, or shall I say, duty, as a commander, to make use of the same amenities as your troops." No, Arkous didn't wish to get embroiled in this debate, again. "But, for a single occasion, consider the essential fact that you possess a superior, fully-featured refresher unit in your private quarters."

The expected, tired response began. "My quarters are clear across the tem-"

"As do mine." 

Another quizzical look. The brain of a bantha, this one.

Arkous began again. "As do my quarters," the Sith pausing both for Darok's comprehension and his own self-confirmation, "have a refresher unit. For you to use."

Oh, this was just too blatant.

And yet Darok considered the offer, rolling it around in his thick, beautiful skull.

Would he assent? Clearly, he was interested. What else would his little pushback on the bow of their conversation communicate? Or was there truly no deeper meaning, and Arkous was merely coming onto him like a lecherous Korriban instructor at a poor acolyte?

Regardless, the fog of war resolved into an answer:

"My clothes are in my quarters."

Blast, his clothes. 

Still, Arkous managed a parry. "I'll send a droid for them."

Darok clearly remained reticent, though. "Arkous," he began.

But the Sith Lord had tired of this pathetic, lengthy dance. 

So he crossed the threshold, and kissed the man.

By Arkous's standards, it was a feather-light peck. By Darok's, as he would learn later, an ion cannon round. It was just as immobilizing.

They parted, and in the silence, Arkous was already composing an apology. It began:  _ That was rather forward of me, I'm sorry. I would completely understand if you petitioned Lady Darkspanner for transfer to a different project. Furthermore… _

But that was as far as he got before Darok cut into his thoughts.

"I'll take that shower."

Arkous's heart fluttered.

" _ My _ shower?"

A pause, and an expression of, what, determination?

"Your shower."

And with that, the Colonel advanced.

It was all Arkous could do to sidestep the soldier's stride into his quarters.  _ His  _ quarters, stars. 

Said dwelling was, really, a trifle of a step above those of the soldiers, in addition to the other Jedi and Sith who had made residence at the Temple. A networked desk and terminal, thankfully-wide bed, and prefabricated refresher unit, all a few meters from each other. All crudely bolted into the stone of the chamber's walls, too, in sharp offense to Arkous's aesthetic tastes.

But with the addition of Darok, it could have been a Rakata refuse pit, and the Sith wouldn't have cared.

A sideways glance confirmed no unwanted eyes cognizant to the two's exchange; it wouldn't do to have rumors of a tryst flying around the compound. At least, not right now.

And so Arkous followed his counterpart in, only to find him not far beyond the door, staring at the ceiling.

"Mine are bigger."

The Darth waited a beat and coyly murmured.

"Size isn't everything."

_ This  _ dance, Arkous liked.

The Colonel marched somewhat further in, around the bed and towards the refresher, before performing an about-face. 

"You, uh, okay with me undressing out here?"

The pureblood could have been a nexu, so wide was his grin.

"Of course. It's not a terribly large refresher unit, is it?"

"No."

With that, Darok practically plopped himself down on Arkous's bed, hands working at the catches of his white-grey workout boots.

The Darth, meanwhile, lowered himself with an almost catlike-grace to his desk chair, now swiveled towards the bed. His eyes betrayed a challenge.

Now, the Colonel's intentions would be confirmed.

The man in question seemed entirely focused on peeling off his socks. One, then the other, revealed feet indicative of a long life of military service. Paler midway down the calves. A callus here or there, but well-maintained otherwise. The defined arch of a runner. 

How Arkous would worship them, but first, he  _ had  _ to know. The Force was certainly no help, the sheer tension permeating the room all but obscuring his telepathic sense.

Darok moved to stuff his socks in his boots, and ended up catching the pureblood's testing gaze, holding it.

At first it could be perceived as a dullness, the typical emotionless eyes of a soldier engaged in a task that had long become second-nature to him. But then those eyes caught the ones looking back at him. And narrowed. 

Not in suspicion, or distrust, but unbridled intensity. 

The man might have had the wit of a boor, but there was no mistaking the intention behind those eyes, especially as they broke off and started roaming down Arkous's sitting form. 

Arkous was not typically one for games of chance, but he very much now felt like he'd won the jackpot.

However, he now had the matter of his attire to consider: A altogether-typical set of black Sith robes, sans the armored chestplate and pauldrons he usually wore on his rounds. To the Darth's now-consternation, this set included a closed skirt, one that proficently concealed the burgeoning erection flush against the thin pants underneath. An inconvenience, to be sure, but soon rectified, by Arkous's reckoning.

The Colonel's eyes finally left the Sith, and like an officer concluding an inspection, stood abruptly and pivoted to face Arkous, who needed only to shift his gaze slightly to view the sizable bulge now apparent on the front of Darok's grey fatigues.

But there were no words said as, eyes still locked, Darok undid the clasp of his collar, and slid down the zipper lining the front of his clothing. He stopped at the waist, and sidled out of the close-fitting material with a surprisingly-delicate motion, letting the sleeveless shirt fall to the ground.

Arkous nearly cursed at the sight. The soldier was still wearing a thin tank-top underneath, but it was absolutely  _ sodden  _ with perspiration, leaving a nearly transparent impression of, by the Sith's estimation, a work of natural art. Taut neck muscles topped a proud, hairless chest with nipples pebbling under the cooling, damp cloth. Beneath that, an abdominal area toned beyond belief, and beneath  _ that _ , well, Arkous hoped to find out shortly.

Before Darok could even strip his tank off, the Sith had already practically jumped out of his chair, rising to his full height - one albeit slightly-shorter than the Colonel's - barely a meter from his counterpart.

The soldier froze, tank half-raised over gleaming abs.

Arkous took a breath. "Do you trust me, my dear Darok?"

Darok raised an eyebrow. "You... want me to answer honestly?"

A Star Destroyer could have been powered by the resulting eye-rolling under Arkous's angular brow. He was at his limit.

"We're both  _ Revanites _ , you poor fool. You may have been a Republic Special Forces whatever, and I a black-robed scarer of children, but what matters now is that we're here. Together. Rallying under somebody who wants to rid us of those pointless, shallow roles."

Darok was positively sheepish now, his complexion rising to meet the red of Arkous's still-working features.

"The very  _ idea  _ of all this is based around a symbiotic relationship. Around the absolute trust that you won't gut me for everything I've done to your Republic, and you, my Empire."

"So,  _ I  _ trust you, nincompoop. And you damn well should trust-" was all Arkous was able to get out before Darok's towering form engulfed him.

He wouldn't say the Colonel was the most... experienced kisser, but the sheer amount of eagerness in the man's efforts made up for it.

Arkous guided that eagerness over to the bed, letting him fall flat on his back, still-clothed legs dangling off the side. The tank remained half-bunched upon Darok's torso; before the Colonel could awkwardly try to shimmy it over his head, the Sith had already grasped the bundle of cloth in his hands. 

He hadn't even needed to call on the Force to tear the flimsy thing in half, before laying a minefield of kisses down the soldier's finally-exposed chest. The man tasted of the Rakatan tropics, but Arkous also detected notes of a light Corellian cologne.

Catching a hint of a disapproving glare, the pureblood added to his litany, "You can always requisition another,  _ Colonel _ ," before popping the button of his extraordinary warrior's trousers. 

Taking a moment to relish in the pronounced curve of the man's hips, the Sith buried his fingers in-between Darok's hot flesh and the combined waistbands of his pants and briefs. Arkous chanced a look upward for confirmation, which he so received from lidded eyes and a gaping mouth.

No matter the partner, Arkous loved this part.

Some slight shifting allowed the Sith to pull pants and underthings just past his counterpart's hips, revealing the dark, curly pubic hairs of his groin. Such curiosities were these to the Darth, as purebloods lacked them. Pausing in his descent, Arkous couldn't help but to rub his face against the curls, delighting in the sensation of the hairs pricking at his face.

A quiet "Arkous,  _ please _ ," emanated from above; judging by the hard, clothed object poking at the bottom of the Sith's jaw, the man behind that voice was  _ suffering _ .

"All right, love," Arkous answered.

The Sith pulled a bit more, and Darok's arousal lightly sprang forth from beneath the khaki and elastic. Not the biggest Arkous had seen, though not the smallest, either. But that girth, that thickness,  _ that  _ was the cock of a soldier, through and through. Circumsized, too, like a high-born Sith. And, thankfully, well-groomed; too many times had Arkous been with humans whose nethers were like a wamp-rat's nest.

"Perfection," the panting pureblood purred, before lining the soldier's length with a solitary, long lick along its underside. The resulting shudder was audible.

The ripple of saliva continued, along with the man's pants, down thickly-muscled thighs - hairless too, Arkous noted - and past artfully-defined calves, until the Sith was able to wrest the clothing from around Darok's feet and toss it behind him, fabric slapping against the stone.

Again, the Darth just had to take in the view. The man of his desires, beneath him, totally nude, with a cock harder than durasteel arcing upwards, beckoning him.

His ego was close to bursting, among other things.

Darok had noticed his partner's satisfaction as well, social mores reconstituting enough to slyly utter, "If you're finished, maybe you could, uh, return the favor?"

Arkous blinked a "What?" Looked down. "Oh, the robes."

Thankfully, the Sith was a master at getting out of those in a succinct manner. 

First to go were the white-trimmed gauntlets. Then, the padded black-and-teal gambeson. Next, Arkous practically stabbed at the automatic releases on his belt, the food capsules and power cells clattering to the ground. Finally, off came the closed black skirt, the Sith embellishing its removal with a twirl of the wrist.

What remained was a matching set of basic black undertunic and pants, plus imposing-looking black boots that nearly went up to Arkous's knees. It was these that the Sith attacked next... or would have, had Darok not motioned for him to stop.

"I'll, uh," his soldier's eyes twitching upward as his soldier's tongue wet his lips. "I'll handle those."

Arkous could have just about squealed at this discovery of their shared fetish, but it would have ruined the moment. So he contented himself with a raised eyebrow and a raised boot, caught by a now-sitting Darok.

The Colonel pulled and pulled, but with little luck. "Never've taken off a Sith Lord's boots, I presume," his suitor murmored, half-joking.

But Darok surprised with a quick tap on a nodule embedded in the back of the calf. A few internal clicks preceded a loosening in the rubber-like material, allowing the soldier to slide the boot free. "You'd be surprised," he muttered, a far-away look in his eyes.

Now  _ there  _ was an interesting story, but Arkous knew it'd likely dampen the mood. 

Blessedly, Darok caught himself and changed the subject. "Err, how do you avoid blisters?" he posited, staring curiously at the sweaty red sole now gracing his thigh. 

Admonishingly, the Sith tutted, "My dear Colonel, not with  _ these  _ ridges," motioning to the hardened cartilage adorning the top and sides of his foot. "If anything, it's harder on the boot."

"I see," Darok grunted, his curiosity clearly piqued. His arousal as well, judging by the cannon between his thighs.

Arkous chuckled mischievously at the sight, and slowly edged his foot up towards the turgid arousal, flush against the grey bedsheets. The Colonel took note of this maneuver, but did not move to stop him, instead relaxing his stance by spreading his legs and stretching his arms in back of him.

The Darth's foot made contact first with Darok's mushroom-like head, than tempestuously slid along to rest at the base, sole almost cradling the man's length. The soldier was practically humming, Arkous could tell. He didn't know if it was the intensity of the moment, the Force, or simply the taxing effort of standing on one foot for so long, but the Sith could almost feel that vibration traveling up his leg.

To try to enhance that sensation, Arkous shifted his foot, rubbing its thick tendons against the underside of Darok's shaft. The vibration increased, becoming a thrum akin to a ship's hyperdrive.

The motion continued, the pronounced ridges pulling and pushing at the veiny skin of Darok's organ. His eyes were dilated, lost in the heretofore unknown pleasures of a prime-of-his-years Sith Lord's foot kneading at his most private place.

So lost was he in pleasure that Arkous could tell he was quickly reaching his limit. In a few seconds' motion, the Darth pulled his chair over, sat down, and pulled off his other boot, bringing a second bare foot to bear in bringing Darok to climax.

The soldier's cock, its owner's breaths becoming more and more shallow, was practically ensconced between moist red soles rapidly tugging away in unison. Darok moaned, "I can't... I can't hold..." 

"Let go, Colonel."

And so he did. Darok began to spasm, hips and buttocks straining against the mattress as his penis began spewing its pearly load. Thick ribbons of white darted across the short distance separating the two lovers, spattering Arkous's black undertunic and pants. From his sleeve, the pureblood drew a glob of the sticky residue with a cultured finger, sampling a taste of the soldier's cum. 

It was sweeter than Umbaran nectar.

Arkous's attention refocused on the now-prone form of Darok, chest slowly heaving as he came down from his orgasm. His cock drooped down towards the bed, clear fluids still seeping from its head. 

One clear conviction resounded through the Sith's mind, beyond the deepset teachings of the Sith, and beyond even those of Revan: He  _ needed  _ to have this man. 

No more was the courtly Darth, but a being now brought to his knees on the hard stone floor. 

The pureblood leaned forward, grasped Darok's thighs with outstretched hands, and began to methodically clean the soldier's self-glazed genitals with his mouth. Arkous captured the tip of the man's length between his lips, tongue furiously working to lick up every last trace of delicious ejaculate.

Satisfied with his flavorsome cleaning job, the Sith proceeded to envelop more of the Colonel's pliant penis, mouth widening to accommodate its turgid circumference. Here, Arkous found he could actually taste the leftover perspiration from his own feet.

The resulting moan roused Darok from his near-slumber, eyes refocusing on the chamber's dark ceiling. 

Arkous, as lost in dizzying arousal as he was, would have been remiss to not notice the steady hardening of the organ in his oral cavity. He smirked around it.

" _ Arkous _ ..." A tired need permeated the utterance. "Get up here."

The Sith disengaged from the Colonel with a *pop* and stripped off his soiled underclothes, finally baring himself to the recumbent soldier. Smirk still on his face, he plopped down on the bed next to Darok, erection bouncing as he situated himself.

Darok took one look at it, in all its throbbing, many-ridged glory, and then at his counterpart's smug expression. 

He sighed.

But Arkous could tell it was one clearly borne of exhaustion than need. The Sith's gaze flickered.

"There's no need," his apologetic voice stopping Darok in the midst of his shuffling towards the pureblood's length, "I should have realized... between the training and, well, my efforts, you're probably just  _ pooped _ ."

With a groan, Darok let his bulk fall back onto the bed. "You're right on that point," he acceded.

Arkous glanced at the wall chrono. Good, mess call wasn't for another hour and a half. He could suggest that they both make use of the refresher, then simply cuddle together for the rest of the time. The Colonel would likely agree, if he was reading the man correctly.

"But I've never taken it in the ass from a Sith before."

The Sith's breath hitched.

"Or," the soldier sheepishly added, "anyone, really."

With a strangled, love-bitten cry, the pureblood fell upon the human, his lips connecting with Darok's like those of a dehydrated being in search of water. For a time, they remained like this, lips smacking and tugging, tongues wrestling in their own exploratory way.

But then the Colonel reached over and experimentally tugged at his partner's still-swollen dick.

Arkous coughed, while Darok continued to probe and manipulate the tough, rounded cartilage encompassing his length.

"They have a lot of loose assholes in the Empire, don't they?" he mused.

The Sith sputtered and broke away, doubling over in laughter. Darok blushed, not having realized he'd said that out loud.

Seeing the Colonel's mortification almost intensified Arkous's laughing fit, but the pureblood tamped down. No need to embarrass the man. Warmly, he confirmed, "Oh, they do indeed." 

Darok met his suddenly-kindhearted eyes, the soldier's awkwardness quickly melting into relief and humor. He chuckled. "They use lube in the Empire, too?"

Arkous guffawed, quickly standing. "Of course!" He padded over to his workstation, a preening element evident in his posture. "We Sith only use but the finest of anal lubrication products!" Leaning over to retrieve such a bottle from a side drawer, the pureblood caught sight of his counterpart silently breaking down in chortling convulsions. 

Smiling, the Sith turned around. "What is this?" Arkous interrogated, faux-outrage evident in his tone, "to conduct yourself in such a manner, it's unbecoming." 

Thankfully, Darok caught on, returning the pureblood's mischievous grin. "I submit to any disciplinary action you may have in mind."

"Good," Arkous replied, lightly slapping the small glass container against his palm. "Now get on the bed."

The Colonel complied, repositioning himself to sit on his knees atop the mattress. Arkous emptied a bit of the bottle onto his hand, and he proceeded to rub vigorously his prestigious length. A familiarly-icy feeling came over the erogenous zone, leading the Sith to shudder in pleasure. 

"I should tell you, my dear Darok, there's somewhat of an aphrodisiac quality to this particular brand of oil. You might find it particularly... bracing."

The soldier harrumphed. "I've been shot, stabbed, electrocuted, the works. 'Bracing' is nothing."

Arkous purred. There was the resolve he so adored. 

"As you say." The Sith placed a single, oily hand on the soldier's pale back, compelling him forward and down.

Now, this was a sight Arkous had often fantasized about; his Colonel, prostrate, ass practically in the air. Oh, but the man had clearly been diligent in maintaining his firm, yet supple glutes.

The Sith couldn't put the bottle away fast enough.

With his unsoiled hand, Arkous massaged one of those outstanding butt cheeks, in turn revealing Darok's puckered anus to him and the world. His other hand traced a greasy trail around the orifice and down the soldier's taint, ending at the soft flesh of his scrotum.

He could hear Darok hiss at the new sensation, saw his asshole undulate. The Sith had little doubt that the man’s length had re-hardened.

Arkous’s arousal, meanwhile, likely could have cut harder than a lightsaber. The pureblood placed a tender hand on the back of the soldier’s thigh. “Are you ready?” he asked.

Darok grunted an inflamed affirmative.

The Sith shifted on the bed, straddling the Colonel’s calves and upturned feet. He gripped his crimson penis, dragging the glossy head in a teasing motion around the quickly-relaxing fringe of his lover’s hole.

Before Darok could finish an annoyed groan, the Darth plunged right in. 

For his part, the Colonel reacted with a relatively-professional conduct, restraining his yell of mixed surprise, pain, and arousal to that of a short bark. Arkous, for the moment, was in heaven; the man’s interior was tight, but still well-fitting, thanks to his substantial lubrication. 

The pureblood began to glide in and out, hips reverberating against the human’s generous rump. He could feel his swollen head grazing the Colonel’s prostate, and could see the effects playing out further up the man’s back.

Arkous could only describe Darok’s expression as a work of art, seeing it fluctuate between confusion, discomfort, arousal, and back again. He briefly worried that the intrusion would be a bit too much for the human to handle, but, observing the whites of eyes nearly completely rolled-back in the man’s skull, such concerns were quickly dismissed.

With a still-slick hand, the Sith reached around and started jacking off the soldier. This provoked an even greater moan from the Colonel, and Arkous could feel the man’s interior walls contract around his ridged length.  _ Force _ , they were both close.

The Darth accelerated his labors, syncing his thrusts with his tugs of the soldier’s length. A great tingling pressure, one that had been building even before Darok had knocked on his door, now threatened to loose itself inside the Colonel’s bowels. But, not wishing such an extensive and awkward clean-up on the human, Arkous opted for an alternate maneuver.

Right at his peak, the Sith pulled out of Darok, leaving a gaping, reddened asshole shining with fluids. In the span of a second, he managed to flip the soldier on his back. So lost in pleasure was the man that he was barely cognizant of this, nor of Arkous perched over him, finally reaching his climax. 

A stream of milky white splashed the near-comatose soldier on his head, his torso, his legs. Not uncoincidentally, Darok then came himself, a somewhat lesser gush of ivory adding to the oily mess that characterized his groin. 

The pureblood’s cascade eventually finished, but not before the Colonel was practically coated in Sith come. Arkous, engorged with power, ego, and all the rest, thought of flatcakes.

He settled for collapsing on the insensate human, sandwiching the layer of pale ejaculate with his red complexion. Their lengths mingled, resting against one another much as their owners were now so entwined. 

The Sith hummed, face buried in the crook of his lover’s neck. “Perchance, would you mind a partner for that shower?” ventured the pureblood.

Darok snored.

It was just as well, Arkous supposed.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was inspired by me recently going through the Prelude to Revan flashpoints and realizing that, hey, Arkous and Darok have some pretty decent chemistry in the few scenes they share. Also, not a lot of fic pertaining to that ship around here, so I figured, what the hell.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
